Renege
by Clydell Humphries
Summary: When Kay disappears, those left can only wonder what caused the Yatagarasu to leave so suddenly. As a serial murder case is put forward, causing their paths to cross again, Edgeworth realises that there could be more to her departure. Just how has his former assistant gotten herself caught in a mess that could very well end a legacy?
1. Departure

She could feel it, seeming heavy in her grasp. Her fingers tried to wrap around it, but finding a more comfortable position appeared impossible. It was cold, hard, unforgiving… wrong. One clumsy move and she could easily make a mistake, easily do irreparable harm. Hand shaking, she wanted to give it back. She knew it wasn't an option. Taking a breath, she tried to calm the assortment of feelings churning in her stomach.

_Broken._

Footsteps were following unwilling. Her heart pounded; she didn't know where they were going, or who the person even was, really. She just knew that she couldn't stop walking. Backing away wasn't allowed anymore.

_Disobeyed._

Her expression was sullen as they seemed to arrive, finally came face-to-face with a man. Appearance equally as grave as her own, his eyes skimmed across her. There was only silence filling the distance between them as they both looked down at the identical items in their grasp, eyes widening slightly when they finally understood.

_Ignored._

Loud noises. Shouting. Cracking. And she couldn't help the tears of absolute panic rushing down her face as she took a step backwards, something clattering to the ground. She looked at the other occupant in the alley-way for a split second, their face distorted with a range of emotions, as a sob erupted through her.

_Neglected._

Her legs were moving quickly, but not fast enough. She had to get away; she didn't want to know what had happen, didn't want to digest what had transpired in those few moments. Any flicker of a thought about it was pushed far away from her mind as she focused on escaping. Her breathing became sharp, pain rushing through her middle, as her footsteps echoed loudly around her, the other sounds fading into the distance. It sent some form of relief over her; relief that she was getting away, that she wouldn't have to face whatever had happened.

_Defied._

Aching, she had no idea where she'd ended up when her thoughts at last caught up to her. Her body had ran out of the adrenaline that he forced to her keep on moving, being replaced by a heavy weight that made her legs shake, threatening to give way. Panting heavily, she fell against the wall of a building, pure terror still rushing through her. Head in her hands, she worked to control her shaking breath, to relax, to _not think_.

And miles away, a slow smile crept its way onto a pair of lips when the thrilling realisation hit them that the game had begun.

* * *

It started with a light tugging at the worn fabric of his coat, fumbling with it between his fingers clumsily. He quickly discovered it was a petty distraction, slight annoyance creeping though him. His nails ran over it once again, a little harder this time, scraping against it roughly. The practise was quickly ceased; the last thing the detective needed was to replace a coat with a hole in it. Hand now reaching up to scratch his neck, the feeling of misdirection hit him hard. He breathed in and out a few more times, all motivation gone.

"Is something the matter, Detective?" Edgeworth hadn't looked up from the papers he'd been studying.

"O-Of course not, sir!" Gumshoe managed to reply, his heart not truly in it. His eyes slid over to the door, and he stopped himself from tapping his foot idly, clicking his pen, _anything_.

The scene would have been pleasant. The detective could feel the warmth coming in from the window nicely, the soft white clouds sending the message that it would be a good day, once he was able to walk home. He almost allowed himself to believe it, but the unease mixed with helplessness twisting within him couldn't be ignored.

The good day was a façade; it was anything but.

"You seem impatient this morning," Miles observed. "If you're so eager for your lunchbreak, I need to inform you that you won't be getting it until those papers are filled out correctly."

Gumshoe looked down, sighing when he realised he'd barely made a dent in the large pile. He took down another form, setting his mind to work.

Still, he found his gaze drifting to the door every so often.

At long last, he triumphantly slid the last form in its designated folder, smiling as he stretched out his now-stiff limbs. He blinked a few times, pleased that the tedious task was completed; it meant that he could go for lunch, which he was ready for. He glanced at his watch for a moment. His good mood stopped instantly, and he slumped forward.

12:30 and she hadn't come.

With the final click of his pen, Edgeworth too finished what he was writing. Scanning his office, his eyebrows rose in slight surprise. "Kay hasn't arrived yet?" he asked.

"No, sir," Gumshoe replied, downcast. "You'd know if she had. Even when you're concentrating, it's impossible to miss that girl."

Edgeworth couldn't see a fault in the statement. Her entrance usually involved her all but breaking open the door, bounding inside cheerfully. Then she'd say her opening line of the Yatagarasu before demanding what cases they had going, and how a thief could be of use. However, since the day had so far only consisted of paperwork, she would have pulled a face before dropping to the sofa, requesting that they wake her when something interesting had happened.

And he was paying her to do so.

"That much is true." Edgeworth sighed softly when he noticed another form on his desk that he hadn't yet completed. Pulling it out from under the heavy law book, he began, not expecting to hear what he did next.

"She's gone, sir," Gumshoe said quietly.

Slowly, his head raised, corners of his mouth turning downwards. "Gone?" he echoed.

"Yeah, gone," Gumshoe repeated.

The prosecutor's frown deepened. He placed his pen back on the desk, staring at the detective directly. "I don't follow you. I would guess that she's back visiting her relatives or something of the like, however the tone in your voice suggests otherwise."

Gumshoe's shoulders slumped forward. "She… she just came to see me last night," he began. "Had a bag packed and everything and said she was leaving, sir. I asked her where, but… she didn't say. It didn't sound like she was coming back anytime soon."

The prosecutor thought it over for a few moments. He would have suspected that Gumshoe was playing some sort of joke, but looking at the deflated detective, he knew he couldn't act that sort of disappointment. "That doesn't seem like her. She wouldn't just leave suddenly like that. It's too…" He trailed off, unsure where he was going. It was spontaneous, reckless and when he thought about it… completely and utterly _her_.

"That's what I asked, pal!" Gumshoe said, voice becoming louder. He couldn't meet Edgeworth's eyes, mood continuing to drop. "It was the first time I heard of anything like that, she never mentioned leaving before. I asked where she was going, and she just shrugged. Then when I asked her if everything was alright, she said that it was." He scratched his neck uncomfortably. "I dunno, pal. This is sounds suspicious to me; I'm her friend, but she was hiding something. Then, she was gone. She just left the precinct like that."

"And why was I not told of this in the beginning of the day?"

Gumshoe avoided his gaze yet again. "I… I hoped she'd come today, sir. That she'd changed her mind." The gloominess in his voice was impossible to ignore.

"…You're free to go for lunch now, detective," Miles informed him.

After the door closed, the room was filled with silence. Moments past until he closed his eyes, exhaling as his mind tried to run through the little they knew. Ignoring the unwelcome tugging within him, he tried to fit the pieces together.

Kay had approached Gumshoe late last night as he was finishing up work at the precinct. She'd informed him that she was leaving and denied that anything was wrong. She also neglected to say where she was going and for how long.

Could it be a case of kidnapping?

His stomach turned slightly at the word, and he found himself arguing against it. Kay herself had approached the detective about leaving. Furthermore, she was at the legal age of an adult. Travelling was something she could do at will; she had freedom. Little was restricted, and in the end, didn't she have a right to see the world?

He couldn't ignore the fact that, if something _was_ amiss, there was little the authorities could do to help.

He found his hand drifting into his pocket. Before he knew it, he was scrolling through the contacts of his phone until he found her name. Pressing the small object to his ear, he waited silently.

"_Hey! It's Kay Faraday here. Well… I'm not here. But leave me a message and I'll call you back, 'kay?" _

He cleared his throat slightly, having no idea how to begin. "Ah… hello, Kay. It's Miles Edgeworth here, but… you probably already knew that." He was silent for a second, collecting his thoughts before continuing. "I was informed earlier today that you'd… left. I'm not sure how long your absence will be, however... if you could call me back with a few details… well, both Detective Gumshoe and I were just wondering what was going on."

He'd said everything he needed to. His hand hovered over the little red button before he lifted the phone up once more.

"Stay safe, Kay, wherever you are."

* * *

Three months passed, and there was no denying a visible change in the atmosphere of the office.

Through the two years she'd been working with them, Kay had brought a lot into the once orderly routine. Edgeworth at first called such behaviour disruptive and immature, though he'd gradually become used to it, knowing when not to make a comment. He'd lost count of the times he'd caught her in his office in the middle of a Jammin' Ninja Marathon, as well as when she'd found it necessary to demand swiss rolls after every single successful trial. In the end, both he and Gumshoe has just learnt to put up with the behaviour, though Gumshoe was happier to do so.

It was only when it was gone that they, especially Edgeworth, realised they'd miss it.

It was the same office, yet completely different to what they'd grown accustomed to. Now quiet and near lifeless, the bundle of energy that had kept things going couldn't be replaced by Gumshoe's attempts of being cheery, or Edgeworth's own effort to make conversation. In the end, both stopped trying.

Things had returned to what they'd been before she'd arrived. Two people, caught in a routine that ran almost _too_ smoothly. The change wasn't welcome; the way things were now seemed alien.

"Another case, sir," Gumshoe informed him, tossing the folder to his desk. "It's a straightforward one; video footage and a witness against the defendant. The trial's tomorrow morning."

"Straightforward or not, it's nearing the evening and they've only just assigned me now?" Edgeworth placed his tea to his desk, flicking open the file with a sigh.

"Prosecutor Payne originally had the case, but he sprained his ankle or something." Gumshoe's sullen expression suddenly shifted into a wide grin. "He might have actually won this case, too."

"…isn't Mr Payne the janitor?" Without waiting for a response, he began to skim read the facts of the case. As the detective had mentioned, it did seem very open and shut. The murder weapon found on the suspect with his fingerprints, witness account, footage detailing the moment of the crime, footprints left at the scene… whoever was leading the defense didn't stand a chance.

He was pulled from the thought as a knock sounded at the door.

"Detective, would you be able to-"

"No problem, sir!" Gumshoe replied. Standing, he strode over to the door, opening it widely. "Maggey!" he said with slight surprise, though his mood seemed to improve immediately.

"H-Hi, sir!" she replied, saluting. "Is Mr Edgeworth here? The Chief Prosecutor sent me to tell him that he needs to speak with him."

"I'll be right over," Edgeworth responded immediately. Carefully sliding his arms into his jacket as he stood, he viewed the security guard. "Did he mention what it was about?"

"No, but it did sound important," she replied, saluting again.

"There's nothing the matter, is there sir?" Gumshoe asked, a frown crossing his lips. Taking a side glance at Maggey, his eyes suddenly widened. "Wait… what if it's something _I've_ done?" he added with panic.

"If that were the case," the prosecutor began as he exited the office, "I doubt the Chief Prosecutor would call upon me. That's in the duty of the Chief of Police." Craning his neck back, he studied the two. "I also doubt he would be so heartless to ask your partner of all people to come find me."

Gumshoe seemed relieved, though his face tinged red. "H-Hey, p-p-pal, just-"

Smiling slightly, Edgeworth turned and began walking again, the detective's stuttering soon out of earshot.

* * *

"Funny little case you've gotten yourself into, Edgeworth."

"I could say the same about your line of work, Wright."

Phoenix managed a half grin before uncorking a new bottle of grape juice. Bringing it to his lips, he sighed, looking back at his friend. "It's unusual that they'd ask you though. You'd think New York'd have decent prosecutors of its own… or better yet, detectives."

Edgeworth stifled a sigh, looking around the small, clattered office. It really had changed over the years. What was once fairly orderly, filled with law books he was certain Wright had never touched himself, was replaced by mountains of magician's supplies. Where there was once a childish yet astoundingly brave assistant remained a young girl, grinning in the corner of the room as she played about with two large, metal rings, trying to get them to interlock. But lastly, where a man who had taken down multiple prodigies once stood, badge gleaming on his collar, there was one who looked as though his dignity had been stripped from him, though traces still lingered helplessly.

"They heard about my involvement in disbanding the Cohdopian smuggling ring two years ago," he explained. "It was a large case; brought in a lot of attention from the authorities. It and my past records for investigations made them place the enquiry for my help."

"That makes sense," Phoenix agreed, "though you weren't the only one in that investigation. I'm pretty sure Franziska would give you a whipping for stealing all the credit."

"Then it's fortunate for my health that she's in Germany," Edgeworth added. "I'm not going alone; Detective Gumshoe will be accompanying me. Once an arrest has been made, it's my duty to prosecute the trial. Currently though, the case has few leads."

"And that's where you come in, Mr Holmes. Gee, these people should be enlisting _my_ help," Phoenix joked. "If you're so great, then the one who beat you in the courtroom every time but once should be even better." He leant forward slightly, placing the half-empty bottle on the stand next to him. "So what's this case about, and what makes it so mysterious that they'd send you across the country for?"

Edgeworth scoffed. "You know I can't just give away information like that."

"You will anyway, won't you?"

The other placed his briefcase on his lap, flicking it open. "In the past two weeks, there have been four murders during the night. The victims have been killed in various means; stabbing, blunt force trauma, shooting and strangling. However," he paused for a moment, opening a file before handing a diagram to the so-called pianist, "all the bodies have been found in the same place; Western Park. Furthermore, after the victims' death, a sharp object was used to carve some sort of symbol to an area of their body, but such a symbol has yet to be identified anywhere else." He passed along a photograph, detailing one of the corpses.

Phoenix whistled lowly, casting a glance to the side of the room. It appeared that Trucy hadn't been listening to what was being said; her face was twisted in concentration as she fumbled with the metal rings. "Sounds tricky. Any connections between the victims?"

"That's the strangest part," Edgeworth replied. "Though all the victims, thus far, have been females, there really isn't anything else connecting them. Their ages vary widely, as do their social statuses. They don't appear to have known each other prior to being killed."

"So these could very well be killings on whim?" Phoenix suggested. "No connections between the victims, various murder methods... just a drunken idiot walking home in a rage?"

"That's one theory so far," Miles informed him, placing everything back in the file and into the briefcase. "I'll admit that it's possible. However, why would anybody bother disposing the bodies in the same place each time? Why carve the symbol? It's too… organised, too prepared. Besides, killing 'on whim' or not, this needs to be stopped."

"Of course." Reaching for the bottle yet again, Phoenix's expression shifted slightly. "Any news?"

"On which topic?"

"You know which one."

"…No," he muttered, shaking his head. "There hasn't been. I tried another time to get in contact with her, however it seems her phone's been disconnected."

After another few sips, Phoenix paused, considering the situation. "It was the last thing anybody expected, wasn't it?" he muttered, taking the prosecutor off-guard. "I mean, I always knew Maya was going to leave at one point or another, for Kurain. But Kay didn't have anything like that, and she really enjoyed working with you and Detective Gumshoe."

"You're not quite right in the assumption that she had nothing," Edgeworth informed him, "but correct in that none of us were expecting it."

The Yatagarasu was the only reason he could think of that would cause her to abruptly drop everything in her life. The path of thievery was Kay's calling; aside from her plans on becoming a detective, which he had no doubt she'd tie into it, the Yatagarasu was what made her so motivated to assist in finding the truth. She so longed to continue what her father had ended prematurely, for the legacy to live on.

Over the two years, though she had quietened down about it considerably around strangers, her determination hadn't wavered.

Phoenix hesitated for a moment, remembering. "Ah. You can't be certain that it's the reason she left, though. If she's in trou-"

"Kay brings trouble wherever she goes, Wright," Edgeworth cut in. "Whether she's here or wherever, I doubt the fact will change. But I spoke with her Uncle a few weeks ago, and though her departure was unexpected, and certainly sudden, we both doubt her safety is in danger."

Phoenix raised an eyebrow. "Enlighten me."

"Say for instance, she had been kidnapped. The kidnapper themselves would have packed the bag she had with her when saying goodbye to Gumshoe, to prevent her taking any weapons or communication devices. They would have taken the basics to avoid suspicion; clothes, toiletries and bedding. However, an item went with Kay that both Badd and I agree the kidnapper wouldn't have thought to take, especially since she kept it well hidden."

"Which was?"

"A sentimental item; a notebook she had as a girl that was a gift from her father. Their 'promise book'." Edgeworth explained. "She… grew quite attached to it. And since moving in with her Uncle at the earliest, she'd keep its location a secret."

"But Badd knew where it was?"

"Yes, he was the only one she trusted with the information. So when he'd learned she'd gone, he immediately checked where it was usually kept, and anywhere else." His hands folded over his chest. "That's why we believe that, though her disappearance was strange, it wasn't a kidnapping. We just have to trust in her abilities to continue safely."

Slowly, a smile spread itself on Phoenix's face. "She'll be alright."

Edgeworth nodded before frowning. He turned his head slightly, aware that he was being watched.

Trucy had halted what she was doing, though the metal rings where now interlocked, and was studying him, biting her lip for a moment. There was only silence as she continued to observe, and eventually it seemed like she was hiding a rapidly growing smile. She sprang to her feet, rushing into the adjoining room.

Relieved to be out of her gaze, Edgeworth looked at Phoenix, who was drinking from the bottle again. "Of all the things you could be addicted to…" he muttered.

"Hey, it's better than tea. This thing's portable," the once-lawyer replied, smugness evident in his tone.

Glancing down at his watch, Miles noted that it was later than he'd thought. "My flight's this evening, so it'd be best if I left now," he explained, standing.

"Good luck with the investigation."

Before he could reply, Trucy had bounded back into the room, a small bag in her hands. "Hey, Mr Edgeworth?" she began, one hand on her hat. "Did you want these?"

He looked down to find an assortment of sweets contained in the bag she was holding. His eyes drifted to the girl's smiling face. "Thank you for the offer; however you would appreciate them more than I would."

"You should take them!" the ten year old insisted, thrusting them towards him. "I already had lots of treats yesterday at a party. Anyway, Daddy doesn't let me eat much sugar, so I should share them."

"I don't want you getting any holes in your teeth, Truce," Phoenix explained, his tone soft as he spread out on the sofa, pulling his beanie over his eyes. "I can't afford the dentist."

"That's because you spend all your income on grape juice." Looking back to the child, Edgeworth managed a small smile. "Are you sure?" After receiving her vigorous nod, he gently took the bag from her, placing it in his coat pocket. "Thank you, Trucy. Now I'll have something to eat while waiting at the airport." He had a feeling that Gumshoe would appreciate them more than he would.

"Just make sure you don't eat them all at once," she warned him. "Otherwise you'll get holes in your teeth." Sitting back down on the floor, she picked up the metal rings again, this time trying to pull them apart. "You should share them."

"I assure you it won't be a problem," he replied. "I'll make sure I do share them."

"Just keep an eye on how many the detective takes," Phoenix muttered. "Because I doubt he could afford the dentist either."

* * *

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm back, did anybody miss me? …yeah, I thought not. I wouldn't miss me either :D**

**A big thank you to Diana Lily and Isabella for betaing this chapter, because I was sitting there freaking out about it for a while. Which is never a good thing, children. Nobody follow my example for anything (except for music choice and ships and… okay, I'll stop now)****.**** Thanks, Diana!**

**And if I may say so, I love writing hoboNick. I still cry because he **_**is**_** a hobo but oh my god, he's so much fun.**

**I hope you're enjoying the fic so far****,**** and choose to continue reading! Any questions? Feel free to contact me, I like talking to people.**


	2. Arrival

"What do you think of the case so far, sir?"

"I'm not informed enough to say."

"But you've read all the files, haven't you?"

"Of course. However, it's difficult to form an opinion and theory before seeing the crime scene personally. What is written can only tell you so much."

"I guess so, but I should probably read it anyway, huh?" Gumshoe said sheepishly. "But I do know the basics of the case, when you accepted it and the Chief Prosecutor gave us the briefing, sir!" He added hastily upon seeing Edgeworth's expression. He rummaged through his bag until he found the file, flicking it open. "It doesn't look good, does it pal?" he stated after a few moments of reading. "I feel terrible for all the victims' families."

Edgeworth could already feel his patience thinning. He had no doubts that it would be a long five and a half hour flight, where he was seated next to detective. He could only hope that he would be too awed by the first class luxuries to be in a chatting mood, but then again, it would probably just make matters worse. He could feel the beginnings of a migraine when the realisation hit him that he would have the detective's company at almost every moment in next few weeks, since to his knowledge, they were sharing the accommodation.

It wasn't that he disliked the companionship. He just hoped that, for Gumshoe's sake, he wouldn't say or do anything that would require a pay deduction.

He slipped a bookmark into his novel, checking his watch. They had another half hour before the flight would begin to board, leaving behind Los Angeles for another city entirely. There, a new mystery lay, just waiting for the truth to be uncovered.

It was only natural that he wondered what the case was really about. Four seemingly ordinary women killed in four different ways, but all found in the same park with the same symbol forever embedded into their flesh. Why would anybody do it? There must have been something about the women that had caused them to be murdered, some sort of link… or perhaps he should look deeper into the symbol, given that there was nothing familiar about it. It could end up being the best lead they'd have.

"Hey, pal, where'd you get the bookmark?" Gumshoe asked suddenly, bringing him back to the first class lounge.

Looking down, he realised what the detective had found interesting. He carefully opened the book, revealing the whole item. "It was a birthday present from Kay last year. She made it herself, but you probably gathered as much."

"Whoa… she did a good job," Gumshoe mused, lifting it out and turning it over in his hands gently. The same pattern that had adorned Byrne Faraday's scarf and her vest bordered the bookmark, and one look could tell anybody that it wouldn't have been easy to do. The Yatagarasu symbol at the top was done exactly, pride shown in each pen stroke. "It would have taken a lot of effort."

"She did mention that to me." Finding the current subject somewhat awkward, his hand began to roam his jacket pocket aimlessly, until he found something. "When I went to see Wright earlier, his daughter gave me these," he began, taking out the bag of sweets. "I was under instructions to share them."

"Oh, those look tasty, pal!" Gumshoe exclaimed, taking one in his hand.

Just before the treat entered the detective's mouth, Edgeworth's eyes widened. He recognised it, even if it was only slightly. In that split second, his arm reached forward, yanking it from his grasp.

"Wha-… sir!" Gumshoe cried, disappointment clear as his hand lowered. "If you didn't want me to have one you could have just told me…"

"That's not the issue," Miles informed him, heart sinking slowly. After receiving the puzzled detective's look, he unclenched his hand, seeing the sight that he least wanted to.

In the middle of his palm sat the item he'd used only a few times, but had left a significant impression. Before then, he'd seen one similar during his courtroom debut against Mia Fey, and all the time when he happened across Maya Fey, but hadn't been aware of the power it possessed until using it for himself.

"Sir… isn't that one of those magmarta thingies?" Gumshoe murmured, traces of disbelief evident in his voice.

"Wright's magatama."

* * *

Holding back a sigh, he turned on the tap, allowing the water to gently wash away the detective's grubby fingerprints from the spiritual item. He'd left the lounge immediately, ordering Gumshoe to stay put and have as many of the sweets as he liked, as long as he was certain beforehand that they really _were_ sweets.

The strong smell of soap was present in the bathroom as he tried to work things out. Could it have been an accident? When recalling Trucy's smiling face, and just how _determined _she'd been to make him take the sweets, he doubted that was the case. As good of a child she was, there was no denying she occasionally brought about mischief.

Once he was finished, he wiped the magatama down with his handkerchief before wrapping it up and placing the small bundle in his pocket. Looking around the bathroom, he knew there was little else he could do but call Wright.

"Wright Anything Agency, where any talent is the best one," the familiar voice recited. "You're speaking with the manager. How may I help you?"

"Wright, it's me."

"Edgeworth? You're not calling me to ask for advice, are you?" Phoenix chuckled. "I thought you'd at least wait until you'd arrived in New York."

"Your ego needs deflating. I'm calling on an entirely different matter." He paused for a moment, sighing. "I apologise, but it seems sweets weren't the only thing your daughter gave me."

There was a moment of silence. "…I don't follow."

"Miss Fey's magatama somehow managed to be mixed among them, and had I not noticed, the good detective would probably be digesting it currently," Edgeworth explained. "It would be safe to assume that this wasn't accidental, unless you are really so careless with such an important possession."

"…So you're telling me you have the magatama right now?"

"Yes."

"And you're at the airport?"

"Correct. My flight boards in approximately twenty minutes," Edgeworth explained. After hearing nothing on the other end, he offered a solution. "I could try and get a member of the nearby police department to get here, take it and return it to yo-"

"You know what?" Phoenix interrupted, voice light. "Don't worry about it. You hold on to it; it might help you in this case of yours. I don't know why, but Trucy has given it to you for a reason… but I'll still be having a stern talk with her."

"I have enough confidence in my own abilities, Wright," Miles informed him. "I don't need this spiritual toy to assist me. The facts of the case can be revealed by my usual means, I'm certain of it."

"You think too much on the surface, Edgeworth. It's probably too late for the police to arrive, and besides, don't they have better things to be doing than playing delivery boys?" He chuckled slightly once more. "Just take the magatama with you, and if you don't end up using it, then there's no harm done. But it might come in handy, and if it does… I expect a five hundred word essay on why the Kurain Channelling Technique is superior to your logic when you return."

Knowing he was correct in some aspects, Edgeworth stifled yet another sigh. "…Fine. But only because I don't wish to inconvenience the police department."

"Of course. And Edgeworth? Just… try to take good care of it. I trust you, but Maya – and Pearl – would never forgive me if it got lost, or damaged. I wouldn't forgive myself either."

"Of course, Wright."

* * *

The jetlag didn't bother him. In comparison to journeys where the destination's time was the flip side of where he'd left, the three hours that New York ran in advance didn't hold any effect.

The thing that had the prosecutor slightly disorientated was the flight itself, and the lack of rest that came with it. Travelling through the night, he'd hoped he'd manage to catch a few hours rest, just so he'd be prepared for the long day ahead. It wouldn't do any good slacking off; he needed to begin right away. The sooner he started, the sooner he could find the person responsible and hold them in the light of justice.

However, that wasn't what happened. As he'd grimly predicted, his companion was far too excited about the case, flight, and anything else imaginable. Not even the strong hints of rest seemed to get through to Gumshoe, and in the end, Edgeworth stopped trying.

"_Thank you for choosing iFly airlines,_" the voice over the intercom announced pleasantly as they landed. "_We hope you enjoyed your flight, and remember; iFly airlines are always here to make your skies blue._"

"That was the best flight I've ever been on, sir!" Gumshoe announced cheerfully. "So, where to now?"

"After leaving the airport, they've requested we visit our accommodation to drop off our luggage and then call them. Depending on the situation, we'll either make our way to the precinct for a briefing with the other detective handling the case, or go to the crime scene immediately."

Saying it out loud caused his head to throb slightly. Rest was a long while away.

Everything else was more important.

* * *

"It's good to meet you, Prosecutor Edgeworth. You too, Detective Gumshoe."

"The feeling is mutual," Edgeworth replied, extending his hand. "I gather you're Detective Paylor?"

The man nodded, grasping his hand firmly. "Yeah, but we don't need to be that formal. Call me Dean, won't you?" Looking at the clock on the wall opposite, he let go, gestured to a nearby room. "I don't mean to be rude, but we really need to get the meeting running, time's ticking fast. Maybe there'll be a chance for us to better introduce ourselves and all later."

"That's no problem, sir," Gumshoe told him happily, stifling a yawn.

Following the man, Edgeworth noted that, in regards to appearance, he seemed on the same level as Gumshoe. He couldn't help but believe it was due to his own laziness rather than poor living conditions, however. From what he'd heard, Detective Paylor held a high position among the police department; he could afford better than instant noodles and the occasional swiss roll. "We apologise for our tardiness. The flight didn't allow us much sleep, unfortunately."

"Take a seat, take a seat," the man offered as they entered, pulling out the plastic chairs that surrounded a rectangular table, a large stack of files barely balancing atop it. "Don't worry about it, I can never sleep during flights… they're too rough for me. I'd let you catch up on the rest now, but… well, you know. A deadline's a deadline, and we don't want any more young ladies crossing it. That wouldn't be nice for them at all."

"We understand completely." Looking around the room, Edgeworth frowned. It was empty. "How many others are assigned to this case?" He'd guessed that there would at least be a police officer or two, even if their position of authority was low in the case.

"You two, myself and a few members of the force that assist in gathering evidence when another murder is committed. Some of them have been helping out on some research in their spare time, though. But for the briefing; yeah, it's just us."

"So you've really been handling the case on your own until now?" Gumshoe asked.

Dean laughed. "Yeah, I s'pose you could say that… officially, anyway. They tend not to count the force. But things aren't being solved… I needed more help this time. You know…" he leaned forward, managing a slight smile as his voice dropped lower, "_deadlines_ and all." Beginning to search through the stack of files, he eventually handed a thick folder to both men. "You received a file on the case, however this is much more in depth. It has a very thorough autopsy for each victim, the areas of the park each were found, locations of the symbol carved onto the skin… and possible theories of what the symbol even is."

Opening it, Edgeworth knew immediately he wasn't exaggerating. It would take him most the night to read through the vast amount of information. "Does that mean you have a lead on the symbol?"

"No, but some of the police force have been looking through the possibilities, and the current guess is that it could be some Egyptian hieroglyph." He barked out a laugh. "But really, I just think it's a dead end."

"What do you mean, sir?" Gumshoe asked, looking up from his own file. "If it hasn't been identified yet, then when they _do _identify it-"

"I mean that, even if we do find out what it is, it won't get us anywhere," Dean interrupted. "It's as big of a lead as somebody carving an 'R' onto a victim after killing them. It could mean anything; revenge, rage… maybe it's a little inside joke the murderer has that means nothing to the rest of the world, making it useless to follow up." He sighed, closing his eyes. Hands clasping together, he leaned against them slightly. "It's just put there to make us focus on it. The murderer's playing a game with us, and because we're playing along, it makes our deadlines harder to reach. And when we _don't _reach them, he'll kill another, and then we'll be stuck in a cycle."

"Though I see your point, we can't be so quick to dismiss the possibility of it meaning something," Edgeworth informed him. As Dean's eyes opened, he elaborated. "It _may_ mean nothing, but at the same time, it could be the piece of evidence that connects the rest of the pieces together, once we find its meaning. Chances of wasting time now are lessened, because there are three working on the case full-time instead of just one. We can't afford to rule anything out."

For a moment, Dean was silent. Until he threw his head back, another bark erupting from him. "I can see why they recommended you to me, Prosecutor Edgeworth. Your views are certainly different to mine... it will make investigating with you a very interesting experience. You're in charge of this case now anyway, so if you don't fear missing a deadline, then we'll look more into the symbol. Though I'm warning you, there isn't much left to look at."

"I can research it some more now if you like," Gumshoe informed them.

"If you wish, then that would be of great help," Edgeworth replied. "Detective Paylor, would you mind showing me the crime scene?"

"Not a problem. And please, call me Dean."

* * *

"The first body was found here," the detective explained as they came to a halt along the footpath.

The entirety of the park had been sealed off from the public, though there were a few curious onlookers by the sides of the police tape, inching to get a look at the scene that was slowly becoming more common to see in the newspapers.

"So how exactly have the bodies been found?" Edgeworth asked, ignoring the small crowd.

Silently, Dean gestured upwards. The prosecutor followed his pointing finger, brow furrowing when he understood.

"They were found in… the trees?"

"Yeah, all four bodies," Dean confirmed. "Last thing the poor bugger who found the first body was expecting, when he was going for a nice, early morning stroll. He thought it'd starting raining when he stopped for a breather. He was in for a nasty shock."

"I can imagine, although this detail wasn't mentioned in the report."

"No? Well, it's definitely in the new, more thorough report you got today." He shuffled slightly, sighing as he observed the lower hanging branches, where some red hadn't quite faded. "I was trying to keep the case low profile, but the media caught whiff of it. Luckily, they only know the basics. It's the reason I waited until you and Detective Gumshoe had arrived before giving you the better report; to prevent a leak of information." Fingers running along a low-hanging branch, he continued. "Apart from the whole 'hanging from trees' thing, the bodies were sort of just dumped there. Not in any particular way, some more sturdily hung than others. The killer didn't want to waste more time than necessary is my guess."

"It's strange to think that they'd waste time and effort, and run the risk of being caught, by bothering to place the bodies in the park in the first place," Edgeworth muttered. "I was told that you don't believe they were truly killed here, due to the lack of blood. Covering up the real crime scene – or scenes – seems plausible. But why bother hanging them in the trees?"

"Our killer might be an artistic one," Dean noted darkly. "Carving a pretty symbol and then have them swaying morbidly from above seems pretty imaginative to me."

Edgeworth looked back to the other man with strained interest. Artistic wasn't the word he'd have used.

Catching the gaze, Dean mustered a wry smile. "It's unbelievable what nutters will do for art."

"Has there been any surveillance set up?"

"Yeah, ever since the second murder. But not real people; we know we'd never catch anything that way. Criminals are observant. Night cameras and ordinary ones were set up under the disguise of ordinary construction workers fixing a building or two. But in the last two murders, they've showed nothing."

Nodding, Edgeworth looked around. In the distance, he spotted more yellow police tape, surrounding another tree. "Thank you, Detective Paylor. You've been a great assistance to me."

Stepping off from the footpath, he knew he had a long day ahead of him.

* * *

It was late. He could feel his eyelids drooping, and had to pull every last piece of self-restraint not to return immediately to the apartment.

He couldn't call the day's efforts useless. He'd recovered some interesting information on the case, met the detective working with them, and above all, gotten a feel for the crime scene. However, in terms of solving it, he'd come up short. Nothing was accomplished, and from the quick call he'd received from Gumshoe, they were no closer to finding about the symbol's true meaning either.

Many long hours were spent simply looking at everything in the park. Finding evidence was trickier this time; the most recent murder had occurred a few days ago, and not all of the park could be protected from factors such as the weather. The crime scene was hardly preserved by the time he got to it.

It wasn't a thought he liked, but he had the nagging feeling at the back of his mind that the only way to get evidence would be if another murder was committed.

He was a moment away from calling a taxi, standing at the edge of the park, before the low sound in his stomach reminded him that he hadn't eaten since the middle of the night, during the flight. His health had to take a strong priority; he was no good to the case if he wasn't well enough to investigate.

Running a hand through his hair, he looked around. He didn't have the patience to cook when he arrived back; it would require a trip to the store at any rate. There was a small restaurant nearby, bubbling with a friendly atmosphere. Though he didn't care for the noise, it would do.

Entering the dim restaurant, he realised the sounds were more pleasant inside. An empty stage told him that there were usually some sort of acts throughout the night, reminding him of the Wonder Bar Trucy Wright often performed in, but perhaps they were finished for now. Music was gently playing in the background, the chatter barely noticeable. Taking a seat, he ordered the meal he thought would take the least amount of time, closing his eyes.

He wasn't thinking about much. Instead of running over the case in his mind, he simply allowed it to relax, a break from the constant work it had been doing all day when trying to connect pieces that didn't fit. Pieces that, he didn't like to admit, barely existed in the first place.

Lost, he didn't notice the speaker announced the final performance for the night.

He barely registered it when the music changed to a more upbeat tune.

The sounds of the crowd hushing wasn't something he thought important enough to note.

However, when the thunder of applause began so suddenly minutes later, his thoughts were shattered completely. Opening his eyes, he was slightly surprising to find a group of dancers atop the stage, frozen in an ending position, grins plastered to their faces. He'd been incorrect that the acts had finished.

As the music began once more, dancers getting into motion once again, he found his eyes drawn to the stage. It wasn't a broad-way, but there was no denying talent among the group. Scanning the individuals briefly, he drew back to look at the whole picture.

They seemed in synch. He'd never been able to work out how it was possible for such large groups to accomplish the feat. Wouldn't there always be at least one who was out of time? Coming in the slightest bit too early, not quite getting the action correct? Synchronisation seemed impossible.

He found the one who fit the criteria. Studying her for a few moments, he realised that it wasn't the timing she had off. More, it was the way she achieved each of the moves. Leg swinging in the air, it reminded him of the many times he'd seen Kay laughing as she managed to kick an object out of a surprised Gumshoe's grasp.

Then when the dancer turned; a little too much like the way the thief had nimbly evaded his response of chasing her until he accepted a little _too_ late that he'd never catch up, eventually forgiving her though she never made an apology.

The actions were too familiar. Eyes now on her, he knew they weren't like the thief's; they _were_ hers, just as he'd seen them before. He found his hand gripping the glass in front of him, the only thing he could do to contain his shock when he finally managed to study her face.

Because though part of him had recognised it in the few moments prior, he could only stare mutely at the last person he thought he'd meet so far from home.

* * *

**A/N: Late update is late, and I'm sorry. I don't actually have an excuse; I've just been obsessing over the original Yatagarasu a lot lately so you'll probably see a oneshot about them soon. I can't be the only one who finds them absolutely amazing.**

**Also, when I was in an artistic mood I ended up drawing both the bookmark Kay gave Edgeworth (which can be found on my deviantart, my username is charcargo) and the symbol that has been carved on each of the victims, which fanfictiondotnet is being stupid and not letting me link, even with the use of spaces. If you're interested, it's on the top of my profile on this site.  
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**You know the drill; tell me where I screw up so I can try my best to fix it. Sound good? :D**


	3. Meeting a Stranger

He could do nothing, not until the song had ended at least.

When it finally did, the last note slowly fading into the night as the motion on stage ceased, a thunder of applause rose within the audience. Miles knew he should be clapping as a show of appreciation and politeness; however he couldn't move his arms to do so, like they were frozen in their place. As the noises died down, resuming back to a pleasant chatter, the dancers slowly filed off the stage, the lights now dimmed.

He didn't quite know when it happened, but he found he'd risen to his feet, just as a waiter approached him with his meal.

"I'll be back in a moment," he muttered, ignoring the confused gaze and small protests.

Weaving through the tables, he caught sight of the last dancer disappearing behind a curtain. Approaching it, he ducked through, being met with a small corridor.

A door to his right was just closing. Hesitantly, he took a step forward, but got no further.

"Nobody but performers and staff can be back stage."

Looking up at the large man now blocking his way, Edgeworth held back an impatient sigh. "I know one of the dancers who was on stage just now. Would it be possible to speak with her?"

The man scoffed, arms folded across his chest. "Yeah. So while I'm sure you really _do_ know her and all, you're not going to see any of them. We don't need any more perverts back here, even if they look all fancy like you."

Staring at him directly, Edgeworth's eyes narrowed. "I assure you, that isn't my intention at all. As I said, I only need to speak with her." When he got a snigger in reply, he tried a different approach. "Her name is Kay Faraday. Would you let me speak with her if she said she'd be comfortable doing so?"

"I s'pose, but I don't remember there being a 'Kay Faraday' here." He turned his back to the prosecutor, opening the door. "Oi! Was there a Kay Faraday in here? You've got a visitor." He waited for a few more seconds before his head poked back. "Like I thought, no Kay Faraday," he said with a satisfied smirk, shutting the door.

Arms crossing his chest, Edgeworth's eyes closed.

Could he have imagined it? The probability of everything was slim at best; how Kay had traveled so far from home was a mystery, especially since she didn't have much money. Becoming a dancer of all things seemed obscure. It went against every piece of logic he held. At the same time, he knew his eyes hadn't deceived him. It _had_ been her, as bizarre as everything was, and he wasn't about to let the situation slip by him.

* * *

He waited by the edge of the curtain, ignoring the guard's glare, and over the course of an hour the dancers left the room one by one. He'd counted twelve on stage. As the eleventh exited, again not the one he was looking for, he finally approached the door. By then the make-shift guard too had taken his leave, and he heard the noises dulling in the restaurant area. It sounded as though it was closing for the night. His food must have been cold by then, but it was a lost fact.

Standing, he approached the door, giving it two strong knocks.

He stayed motionless for many moments, silence his only reply. He exhaled, unaware that he'd been holding his breath in the first place, and raised his fist to knock again, just before he heard a muffled reply.

"...Kay?" he called. "Are you there?"

There was a shorter pause this time. "Who are you?" the voice asked, more clearly this time.

There was no mistaking the familiarity of it. "I assumed that after two years in my company you'd recognise me, however it's Miles Edgeworth. May I speak with you?"

He waited for another few seconds as silence again covered them again. A sigh that could barely be heard escaped him, and he knew it would do no good to press the matter any further. If she didn't wish to speak with him for whatever reason, then he wouldn't make her. Even with an abundance of questions that continued to grow high, the answers weren't necessary to him.

Just as he made a move to leave, the door swung open, and for the first time in months he managed to lay eyes on her properly.

"Hi, Mr Edgeworth," Kay greeted. A smile seemed to force its way to her lips as she looked at him wearily.

It took a moment for him to begin. How could she start a conversation after so long with no contact, just like that? "Hello, Kay. It's been a while."

Though she had changed into some more casual clothing, she had yet to remove her makeup or take down the tightly coiled bun. It didn't seem like her, and he supposed it wasn't entirely due to her absence. The hint seemed to get through to her, and opening the door wider, she gestured silently for him to come inside.

It wasn't a small room, but the amount of supplies that it had clustered around gave Miles the feeling of being cramped. Costume racks, large boxes filled to the top with stage makeup, and a few large cupboards were spread out in the room. The walls were adorned with posters, each depicting various contortionists and other dancers.

"It's an interesting place," he commented, turning his eyes back to her.

"Yeah, you could say that," she replied. Avoiding his gaze, she pushed some items from a chair, causing them to clatter to the ground, and sat down to look in the mirror, pulling out her bag from under the bench.

The question that'd been on his mind since seeing her perform escaped him. "Why are you here?"

Kay didn't bother answering him. Silently, she undid her hair so that it fell in curly waves around her, affected from being coiled in a tight bun for so long. Wetting a cloth, she ran it over her face, slowly ridding it of the plentiful stage makeup she'd been required to wear. As it faded, Miles began to see more of the girl he knew; the real Kay Faraday, not a performer.

However, she looked exhausted; completely and utterly drained. The Kay he knew was so full of energy she was hard to handle sometimes.

Minutes passed before she turned around once more as she was drying her skin, giving him a blank stare. It was only then that he realised he'd been watching her. "What are you still doing here?"

Edgeworth arched an eyebrow. "I'd appreciate answers, Kay."

"About what?"

When it was clear he wouldn't be receiving an invitation to take a seat, the prosecutor sighed, clearing some room on one of the sturdier chairs. He sat, looking at her directly in the eyes. "Your sudden disappearance, for one," he clarified.

"You didn't expect me to hang around forever, did you?" she replied simply, taking him off-guard. Kay turned back to the mirror, beginning to brush her hair vigorously. "Sure, investigating with you and Gummy was fun enough," she admitted after a moment of strained silence. "But I finished school nearly a year ago, and I need to make my own way in life."

It was a good question. In the end, what had he expected from the self-proclaimed thief? She had entered his life suddenly, however he'd never expected her to leave in the same manner.

Edgeworth frowned. "But like this?"

"There are worse things I could be doing," Kay stated, though she did sound slightly dejected. "It's not that bad, really. Another new experience under my belt, and it pays pretty well." She noticed his empty expression. "What?" she asked suddenly.

"I was just thinking about the Yatagarasu," Edgeworth admitted. "Not that I approve of it, but whatever happened to that? For as long as I've known you... well, known you a second time, it's been the only thing on your mind. I'm surprised that you're not perusing that."

It wasn't the reaction he'd anticipated; he'd expected Kay's head to turn away slightly, trying to hide a guilty face because that was _exactly_ what she was doing there, following her father's path and trying to take down another organization. He wasn't fond of the idea; millions of things could go wrong for her, the best being time in jail. But at the very least it was something she was passionate about, something she'd be _careful _about.

She scoffed. "Didn't we already take down a smuggling ring? My job's done. Rebuilding something like the Yatagarasu would be impossible; it was just a kid's dream."

Not allowing himself to waver, Edgeworth pressed on. "Regardless, I was under the impression you wished to study law. You were considering becoming a detective, were you not? I heard you planning it enough times with Gumshoe." Though he heard no objection, he knew he had her attention. "Then why come here? This would only hinder your progress, if you still planned on perusing that career."

It took her a few moments to respond. He watched with interest as her face undertook a few emotions, most of which she tried to keep hidden. "I _might_ still become a detective," she said slowly. "But not in Los Angeles."

"Oh?"

Her answer had surprised him. It wasn't Kay. Kay wanted to get things done as soon as she could, not put them off. Something was terribly wrong.

"Might I ask why? If anything, you'd have an advantage back there, with Gumshoe and myself to assist you with your studies. If it's the cost you're-"

"Look, does it matter why I'm here?" Kay interrupted, rising. She sounded irritated, like the questions were wasting her time. She ran a hand through her hair, avoiding his gaze. "I'm supposed to go and find my own path in the world, aren't I? If you only came here to badger me then you can leave! Your mission has already been accomplished."

He opened his mouth to reply, but found it closing the moment his surroundings seemed to darken, all except for her. Edgeworth's eyes widened slightly when chains suddenly crossed themselves over Kay, being held in place by three red and yellow locks. He found his hand touching the small spiritual item in his pocket, which was now warm. What was she hiding? Holding the magatama tighter, he locked eyes with her for a second before allowing it to slip from his fingers. He saw the chains quiver slightly, but not because they were about to collapse.

Just knowing she was hiding something felt like an invasion of her privacy, especially when it had nothing to do with the case. That was why Wright had let him borrow it; he wouldn't use it for any other purpose.

It took a moment for him to compose himself. Her outburst had been as sudden and unexpected as the locks, and both left him with a disappointment in himself. He stood, bowing. "I apologise; it wasn't my intention to upset you, Kay," he replied. "If you wish for me to leave, then I will. I'm not here to badger you; currently, I'm investigating a series of murders in the area. It's only by chance that I found you here."

The former thief's mouth formed a small 'o' before closing completely. She sat down again, frowning. "The murders nearby? At Western Park?"

He nodded. "Yes. You wouldn't know anything about them, would you?"

She shook her head. "No, I just live in an apartment nearby with a few other dancers. It was somebody from our building that was killed yesterday."

The locks and chains around her slowly faded, unbroken.

"I see." He made a mental note of that fact, hesitating to say what he wanted to. In the end, he didn't wish for her to be exposed to any of this. It was unfortunate enough that she was around the more dangerous area of the city; staying in an apartment building where a victim also came from made the situation worse. His fingers dug into his palm lightly. "If you're not feeling safe-"

"Mr Edgeworth-"

"-where you currently are, then you're always welcome to stay with Detective Gumshoe and myself," he finished. "You have my number if you need to contact me."

"Gummy's here too?" she asked, not bothering to mask her surprise.

"Being my investigative partner, it's only natural." He paused. "You're always welcome back home too, if you feel the… _new experiences_ aren't working out."

Her expression hardened immediately, and she looked away. It was there again; the unfamiliarity that made her a stranger. "I think it's time you left, Mr Edgeworth," she stated, voice tense. "I think they're closing soon."

"Of course." It wasn't just a suggestion; it was an order. Collecting his jacket, he gave her one last glance, heading for the door. "Goodnight Kay. Can I ask just one thing?"

"I guess."

"You should call your Uncle. He may not show it, but I'm certain he's worried about you."

He didn't get a response.

* * *

"But why would she be_ here_?" Gumshoe exclaimed. "I mean... it's so far from home, sir! And _dancing_? Kay likes fighting, not dancing!"

Walking by his side to the police station, Edgeworth had just finished retelling the events of the previous night. "I'm just as bewildered as you, Detective." Admitting it out loud caused him to almost feel ashamed, but in that matter he had little to go on. In the end, he shouldn't be bothered over it; he was here to solve a serial murder case, not to find his old assistant. If he had time before returning to Los Angeles, he could always try to speak with her again, just to make sure she really was alright.

"I really hope nothing's wrong," the detective muttered. Kicking part of the footpath helplessly, he eventually straightened up. "If I get time off this afternoon, I'm going to bring her the best swiss rolls New York have to offer!"

The prosecutor didn't wish to point out that they would be well out of his price range. "Did you make any progress with the symbol last night?"

The detective let out a heaving sigh. "It's really doing my head it. I've looked through so much, and there's nothing that really looks like it. But... I really feel like I've seen it before, or something similar. I just can't figure it out. Did... did it feel like that for you?"

"Not particularly. But I've been focusing more on the crime scene, though not much information has come from that. It's trickier to preserve evidence outside, and the scene was already a few days old. Realistically, there's not much to be looking at. I'll examine the symbol tonight and see if anything comes to me. I real-" He was cut off as his phone began ringing. Taking it out, he answered it. "Miles Edgeworth speaking."

"It's Dean Paylor," the voice responded.

"Good morning, Detective. We're almost at the station."

"Don't bother," Dean replied roughly. "Nobody important will be home. Meet us all at the park as soon as you can."

Footsteps ceasing, Edgeworth frowned. "Western Park?" The news sank in a little slower than it should have. "There's been another murder," he said quietly, glancing at Gumshoe.

"Yeah. Somewhere around eleven last night we're guessing. They were injected with some nasty poison; it would have killed them in minutes."

"Eleven?" The number seemed to jump around his mind for a moment, until the realization sunk in. Half an hour before then, he'd left Kay on her own. _Idiot!_ "Who is the victim?" he asked, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a manner he could only hope was coherent.

"Another women, really young though. We haven't identified her yet, but I'll send you a picture. Be here as soon as you can." The call cut off.

The minute dragged by slowly, and each second that passed opened new and increasingly unpleasant thoughts. It forced him to consider everything, for his mind to unwilling put together the worst situation possible. Kay would have left the restaurant alone, any time after he had. To an attacker, it would have been a simple situation; she was already tired, Edgeworth had known that. Perhaps she wasn't as observant as she should have been on the short journey home, where the park was so close by. Not quite alert enough to detect somebody coming up behind her, and by the time she did it could have been too late. There was also the matter of her seemingly discarding 'Kay Faraday'; she hadn't answered to that name when the security guard called. Was that why they were unable to identify her?

Why hadn't he done the most obvious thing and made sure she'd _gotten to her apartment building safely_?

As the thoughts raced through his mind, faster than they should have been able to, Gumshoe remained silent, aware that something was going on but knowing he couldn't say anything. At last, Edgeworth's phone rang again. Flicking it open with fingers that seemed clumsier than usual, he was met with the image of a girl.

Long black hair and a slender physique, hanging lifelessly from a branch with glassy eyes positioned forward. It wasn't a pleasant situation in the slightest, but some relief found its way through him. It wasn't Kay.

"Sir, are you alright?" Gumshoe finally asked.

Edgeworth passed him the phone. "There's been another murder," he replied, thankful to find his voice was stronger.

Gumshoe looked at the screen, face quickly turning pale. "Oh, pal…" he said, staring at the image. "I-I really thought it was Kay for a second. Same hair, same shape… but not the same face."

"That was my concern, after seeing her last night. There is a strong resemblance, but it's not her." Taking his phone back, Miles noted Gumshoe's distraught expression. "You can't let it distract you, Detective. This is a terrible tragedy, and though we can be thankful that it wasn't her, the reality is that there's a young woman who is now dead, and there will likely be more unless we stay focused. That's five in total they would have killed. There's no time to waste; we need to find the murderer."

As Gumshoe rose in a salute, immediately in search of a taxi, Edgeworth could only think that it would do himself good to follow his own advice.

* * *

**A/N: Heeeeyyy guys. Um. Long time no see? Exams and other stuff got in the way (but in the end the lateness was just me being lazy and not motivated to do anything), but I finally got round to finishing this up. I hope you like it and continue to read, and really, I am sorry for the delay. I'll try not to let it happen again, because that was sort of ridiculous.**

**Anyhow. Um. Maybe I'm selfish for asking this, but I'd really love some feedback. Not necessarily reviews that are all 'OMG AMAZING ILY' (though I do find those kinda flattering), but just what you genuinely think of the story; what I screw up, predictions for future chapters, etc. Because I do read all the comments and take it all into consideration, and in the end, I really love talking to you guys.  
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**See you soon!  
**


	4. Discoveries

"This one's more brutal," was Dean's greeting as the prosecutor and detective exited the taxi, his green eyes studying both. "A lot more."

The sky was cloudy above them, causing the area to darken and have a further feeling of morbidness. Scanning the park, Edgeworth caught sight of yellow police tape in the distance. "How so?"

"Did you get round to reading the larger case file last night?" Dean asked, leading them towards the scene. "Usually the culprit carves the symbol after the victim's dead. They've done that for everybody else, but not in this case; the blood loss shown on her clothing indicates that the victim was alive when they began carving it, likely before they were drugged. Once you've examined the scene, her body will be removed so we can perform a proper autopsy."

"We'll begin right away then," Edgeworth replied as they reached the sealed off area. Police offers surrounded the tree, taking photographs and notes. "Have you found anything yet?"

"Nothing of use so far. It looks pretty much the same to the other murders."

"What have you been focusing on?" Edgeworth questioned, taking a step towards the tree.

"The footpath and the area around the tree for any footprints. No luck."

Miles nodded. "The body?"

"It's tricky to examine that when it's hanging in a tree. Photos have been taken from a distance, but it's difficult to do much else than that without messing up the scene. The angle's not exactly ideal."

Lightly touching the bark, Edgeworth frowned, realising that his fingers were now damp. Taking a better look at the tree, he noticed it was wet. "It was raining last night, was it not?"

"In this area, yes. It didn't start until 11:30 or so, it was light at first but it got worse," a police officer informed him. "The body was fairly well protected from it. The branches and leaves overhead and to the sides blocked out most of the water and the wind from what we can tell."

His eyes ran along all he could see of the body; the limp arm. He noticed a collection of scars, along with a few flecks of blood on the skin surrounding. "Where is the wound located?" he called. "The symbol, I mean."

"Her stomach, near her abdomen, from what we can see." Dean replied gruffly. "Not to burst your bubble, but you're gonna get that suit of yours ruined if you climb up there to look at it. Wait until it's taken down."

"I had no intention of climbing. I only wanted to get a view of the body." Turning his head to the right, he saw the ground below him strained with red that had run down the tree, a trail present. He took a step back, moving around to the other side of the tree

He found himself in line with the woman's head. Pacing around, he couldn't see anything unusual about it; no wounds or bruises of any kind. The unease grew in his stomach as the resemblance to Kay kept on grabbing at him. If the killer really didn't have a specific motive, then it easily could have been her lying there.

Shaking his head, the thoughts separated. It would do no good to think of that now. The woman's torso out of view, he looked over her other arm, just hanging off the branch. After moving, he suddenly froze as his gaze fell on something for the briefest moment. Slowly, he retraced his steps, until the light caught a thin object that was dangling finely from her fingers. "I've found something," he said, catching the attention of a few. "If one of the forensic officers would please take this for examination, I think it may be a piece of evidence."

"Huh? What is it, sir?" Gumshoe asked, approaching him.

"A hair."

"A _hair_?" Dean echoed, sceptical. "Don't you think it could be the victim's? Not hard to imagine that it got caught on _something; _just look at it. Long and not tied up, you can tell it's tangled."

"Given that the victim has dark hair, and this one is bright red, no, I don't think that," the prosecutor replied, the forensic officer carefully taking the strand and slipping it into a plastic bag. "I've begun to build a theory of what occurred last night. Of course, we'd need more evidence to make a court case, however… it's something."

Slowly, a smile stretched onto Dean's lips. "You really do have that reputation for a reason, don't you? You've been here five minutes and you already have an idea." He fell down onto the park bench. "What do you think happened here, then?"

"The victim was walking through the park on her way home when she was seized. Of course, she struggled against her captive; it's a natural reaction. Then-"

"Sorry for interrupting so quickly, but I won't be convinced of anything unless there's some proof," Dean reminded him. "Is there any evidence of a struggle?"

"I noticed that she has a collection of scratches along her arm. They start off somewhat deep, but drag and become shallower as it ends."

"From the bark?" Dean suggested. "When she was pushed into the branches, her skin could have rubbed against it, causing the scratch."

"It's a possibility," Edgeworth admitted, "though not what I was thinking, especially given the nature of them. Four of them are relatively close together, but I noticed a fifth scratch that was further along her arm. Does it not make you think of fingers? Like they were caused by nails?"

"Now that's the sort of evidence I like to hear." The approval in his voice was impossible to miss. "Though, they'd have been done by the culprit, yes? Could have just been when they victim was first grabbed."

Edgeworth nodded. "However, we know the murderer had better weapons in their possession, so the scratches were likely caused in panic, when the victim began to fight back. Bringing me to my second point; another indication of the struggle is the hair. The victim was able to grab a hold of the culprit's hair, and managed to remove one strand. Why else would she be holding something like that?" Before he realised it, he was pacing. "Now, the symbol was being carved, and the victim was losing blood. So, what was she doing?"

"…Well, I'd be panicking, sir," Gumshoe said quietly. "A lot, and yelling for help."

"Nobody can argue that it wouldn't be a plausible reaction; after her attempts to break free on her own failed, she didn't have much left to lose. But in the end, whether she yelled doesn't matter; it's an undeniable fact that she was injected with poison, which killed her before the blood loss did. In the end, perhaps the only reason for it was so it would appear like the other murders. There's little to back that up though."

Dean barked out a laugh. "Look like the other murders? She was soaked in blood! It would take a beating heart to let that much escape onto her clothes." Stroking his stubble, he eventually nodded. "It's a solid theory, I'll give you that, but it doesn't lead us to the culprit."

"But the hair does. From the DNA we'll be able to tell their gender, eye colour, general physical traits…"

"Urm…" The nervousness in the voice behind him immediately caused Edgeworth to think that, had his assumption been correction, it would have made solving the case far too easy. It was never that simple. He was faced with a forensics officer who was shaking his head slowly, nervousness clear. "W-Well, you were sort of right, sir," he began. "We can get _some_ DNA from the strand of hair. But… w-we won't be able to tell their general traits."

"Huh?" Gumshoe burst out. "But… why not, pal? We've done it before!"

"It c-can be done in some cases, but not all," the officer explained in a rush. "See, I can already tell this hair wasn't pulled from the root. It's not complete; we're missing the follicle. Which means the sort of DNA we'd be able to retrieve isn't the type that would tell us the traits of the culprit. But! If you _did _get in a culprit, we'd be able to compare their DNA to what we'd got from this hair, and get reasonably accurate result."

"Define reasonably accurate," Edgeworth requested.

"The sort of DNA we'd get from this part of the hair, mitochondrial, is passed down from mother to children. So if you arrested the culprit's sister, for instance-"

"-the DNA would be a match," Dean finished. "Still, it's definitely a worthwhile lead. The odds of two members of the same family being in our suspect list are pretty low. It would have helped to know a little about the guy we're trying to get, though. We don't even know their gender; this hasn't exactly narrowed down the field at all. Apart from the fact that they have red hair."

The prosecutor closed his eyes for a moment. "I don't mean to generalise," he began slowly, "but typically, men do not have long fingernails. Not long enough to leave scratches that deep on the victim. The hair we retrieved is long too; very long, in fact. It's a trait that – again not meaning to generalise – is far more common among women."

"So you think we're after a lady, then?" Dean confirmed.

"Sadly, the evidence is circumstantial; however it does look that way." Edgeworth found his eyes drawn to where the blood had stained the bark and the grass at the base of the trunk. "Are we supposing that this here is where the victim was murdered? Where the struggle occurred?"

"There's the amount of blood we'd expect to see, when drawing on the other murders. It seemed like all them were killed close to the trees as well," an officer commented.

Slowly, Miles found himself smiling as he found the new piece of information didn't fit with the rest of the puzzle. A contradiction. A _clue_.

_Eureka._

"That doesn't add up. There shouldn't be the same amount of blood," he replied immediately. "After all, the victim was killed differently to the others. She was still alive when the symbol was carved, so she would have bled more since her heart was still beating. The amount that you see here is only the same to what the other crime scenes looked like because the victim was dead when she was hung in the tree, just like the others. Then the wound bled the same." He sighed. "But finding the real crime scene…"

"Sir, I've just been thinking," Gumshoe began. Spinning around for a few seconds, and almost tripping in the process, he turned back to the prosecutor. "We're pretty much in the middle of the park, aren't we?"

Dean nodded. "Almost dead centre. That's very literal right now."

The joke flew over the other detective's head. "Then… you know, I don't think where the struggle happened would be too far away," he explained. "If they were killed at the edge of the park, then the murderer wouldn't have really bothered to bring the body all the way to the middle, right? It probably would have left a trail of blood, and they'd have looked pretty suspicious if somebody spotted them. So they must have been close."

It was possibly the first time in the detective's life that he'd used solid logic, Edgeworth noted. "There's an area over there," he said, pointing, "where there are no trees. This one seems the closest to it."

Half the officers, the two detectives and the prosecutor quickly walked onto the barren patch of grass, eyes peeled for anything that stuck out. Minutes passed before anything did.

"Urm… sirs?" the same nervous forensic officer called. "I… I-I'm not sure, but I think I may have found something." As Edgeworth and Dean approached him, he pointed downwards. "There. It's-"

"-Just a puddle." Dean scoffed. "Made from last night's rain, by the looks of it."

"I thought that too sir, but… well, compare it to the one over there," the officer said, pointing to another pool of water a few feet away.

Silence covered the group as they looked back and forth between the two, nobody able to deny that the first had the slightest hint of red the other did not.

* * *

"I trust you'll be setting up better surveillance now?" Edgeworth asked. He waited a little longer than a minute as the other man said nothing, only turning his pen in his hand slowly. "She was the fifth victim; we can't play around with video cameras anymore. Too much is at stake."

He'd wanted to mention it during the meeting of the day's events after nothing more was found at the crime scene, but looking at the detective's expression, he knew that thought had already crossed his mind. He knew better than to bring it up in a room full of people when the detective already felt like a failure. It would have accomplished nothing.

Slowly, Dean nodded. "Five gone now. We're running late. Time's ticking too fast to be relying on video cameras now; deadline's creeping up too quick for electronics to pick up. I'm just trying to work out the best way to go about this." He opened the drawer of his desk, pulling out a map of the park and the buildings surrounding it. After studying it for a few moments, he began to circle certain areas. "I'll station officers in the park and around it 24/7, some in uniform, some casual. Overall we're going to need six at a time. They'll rotate in shifts, varying from half an hour to three. Just so long as it doesn't seem like there's a pattern."

"That's going to be a difficult order to execute, especially at night. There are few ways the undercover officers could blend in at that time, in particular if they're stationed in the park."

Dean sighed, leaning forward onto the wooden desk, resting on his arms. "Yeah, but like you said; there's too much at stake. We've failed five people already and I won't let there be a sixth." He paused for a long time, though Edgeworth had the impression their conversation wasn't over. "You're not going to like this, but I just received word from the technical team that last night's footage was edited. Same with the other two times murders occurred."

Finger tapping against his arm, Edgeworth frowned. "Edited?"

"That's why the cameras haven't caught anything before; they've been tampered with. Not physically, somebody's just disrupted the data being saved. We wouldn't have noticed, except there's a point from last night's footage where it loops, and the scene changes completely, all the water from the rain suddenly disappearing. The new footage doesn't match up with the weather report; it was a sloppy job." He checked his watch absent minded. "Means our murderer knows how to get into computer systems, or knows somebody that does. Don't know if that'll narrow it down, but it'd be worth having a tech keep an eye on the cameras and try to track where the interference is coming from. I just can't believe it took us three murders to work out that something was wrong."

"…There's no denying that it's a large mistake." Edgeworth commented. "But it makes the need for proper security even more urgent. The truth is harder to erase from one's memory than anything electrical. Have the forensics department completed their analysis on the hair yet?"

"Not yet. I'll let you know when they have." Dean sat up straighter. "But at your observation, the scratches were examined when creating the autopsy. They've told me that there are substances that suggest coloured nail polish. So you're right; we're looking for a woman. A man wearing visible nail polish sticks out like a sore thumb, and no murderer wants to draw that much attention to themselves. Not if they intend to keep on killing."

"I know it's little to go on currently," Edgeworth admitted, "but if more evidence comes to light later, that fact will be of use."

"We still haven't identified the victim, or where she'd come from last night. We're supposing she's in her early twenties. We were going to request a broadcast about the situation, but…"

The prosecutor nodded, understanding. The media would jump on the story, since so little information of the murders had been released. Asking for a message to be sent out would only cause any television station to feel as though it was their right to know the rest of the details, making the investigation harder to conduct. "With all due respect, Detective Paylor, the victim had family and friends that still have no idea she's gone. It's vital that she be identified."

"Yeah. Yeah, I know." He let out a dry laugh. "I'll request for it to be on the news tonight. I'll try to keep the rest of the case under wraps, but we can expect to see some journalist either here or the crime scene tomorrow. We can only hope they don't find out about the security cameras; we'd never hear the end of it." From the stack of paper on his desk, he pulled out a form, beginning to fill it out.

Miles rose. "Call me if you need anything, Detective Paylor. I'll return back to my accommodation and get through the rest of the case file."

"Sounds like a good idea. Take this one as well," Dean offered, handing him a slim folder. "A briefing of what we've discovered today, including the autopsy."

File under his arm, Edgeworth nodded, leaving the man to his work. As he stepped outside the station, he could feel the night approaching. Though the sky wasn't yet dark, the air had become cooler, buildings already lighting up in preparation. Noticing an empty taxi, he quickly approached it. He opened his mouth upon being asked for a destination, and without really knowing what he was doing, requested to go to the street side of Western Park where a particular restaurant lay.

* * *

**A/N: Happy near-end-of-the-world everybody! In other news, it was my birthday two days ago. Guess who can learn to drive now? :D**

**Hope you enjoyed! Thanks to the lovely people giving me feedback, it's really helping me out :) I had a lot of fun looking up forensics information for this, actually. It's a learning experience for all of us.  
**


	5. Note

A/N: Hey, y'all. I know I shouldn't have a chapter just for an author's note, but there's literally nowhere else to put this.

Most may have already guessed this because there hasn't been an update in the past month, but I'll say it anyway. Due to a severe lack of both inspiration and motivation for this story, I have decided to end it. This wasn't a decision made lightly, but I've realised for a while that writing it seems more like a chore than something I'm doing for fun. This is a shame for me because I'd really thought this story out, and to see it put together completely would be magnificent. However, I'm not going to do that if it wouldn't be enjoyable, and didn't seem to have any other benefits. If I don't enjoy my work, then the quality will drop, and that's not fair on the few who are reading it either.

I'll probably take it down from this site in a few days. I haven't decided yet, but I might also make the plans for this story available for those curious about how it ends. And what happens in the middle, too. I didn't get far.

So that's that I suppose. Please don't take this as me giving up on either the fandom or this ship, because I still love both.

~Clydell


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